


I Loved You

by endstiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Canon Universe, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Saying "I Love You" During Argument
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:31:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3443861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endstiel/pseuds/endstiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why do you think I saved you, Dean? Why do you think I sacrificed my body— my existence— time after time? I gave up my life, my kin for you. You can’t be surprised that I did so because I loved you. At the very core of my being, I loved you."</p><p>Based off of <a href="http://gentlekieren.tumblr.com/post/109298580418/im-getting-really-upset-right-now-because-like">this</a> post</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I don’t love you anymore,” Cas shouts, anger covering the pain in his words, and Dean falters, backing away, and gasping for air as if he’d been punched in the gut. And a punch would have hurt far less.

He can’t remember what they were arguing about— probably something stupid like the Mark or Metatron— but now all he can hear is the word Castiel spoke: love.

“Y- you love me?” he asks, though it comes out in a whisper.

And Castiel huffs, glancing away. “Not any more.”

“But—”

Castiel sighs, and despite his stance, still open and angry, his eyes have softened, giving way to the loss there. “Why do you think I saved you, Dean? Why do you think I sacrificed my body— my existence— time after time? I gave up my life, my kin for you. You can’t be surprised that I did so because I loved you. At the very core of my being, I loved you.”

And hearing these words, spilled out into the air between them, Dean can’t breath. The world stills around them and even if his lungs could draw in air, he still wouldn’t be able to speak, or find words for that matter, because all he can think about is Castiel. 

He remembers the first time he saw Castiel— a blinding light cutting through the dark of hell. Raising him from damnation, and burning a scar into his soul.

He remembers Castiel helping him, guiding him through troubles with his brother and the apocalypse, despite his better judgement. 

He remembers Castiel rebelling against heaven— his home, his family— so the Winchesters could succeed, and he remembers how angry, how hurt Castiel was when Dean nearly gave up on himself.

He remembers all the times Castiel left him— or hurt him. The times that he died, or disappeared. And Dean mourned the loss time after time after time.

He remembers feeling the air sucked from his lungs when he realized Castiel lied, he remembers picking the dirty trench coat from the ground, and he remembers wanting nothing else but to curl up and wallow in the pain of the loss.

But he also remembers the times he found Castiel— the times he hunted for the angel— and how he felt when Castiel was close again. 

He remembers driving thousands of miles to find Emmanuel and how emotions flooded his body as he saw the face of his friend again. 

He remembers being separated from Castiel in Purgatory, and killing his way through the depths to find him again.

He remembers how happy— how completely and utterly _happy_ he was when he saw him by the stream.

And he remembers the loss he faced not too soon after when Castiel chose to abandon him.

He remembers everything.

He remembers them laughing, and fighting together, becoming brothers in arms. 

But they never felt like brothers. Not really.

They felt like something different.

Not quite brothers, but something just as important and dear.

He remembers how he felt when he was with Castiel. And the pain he felt when Castiel was gone.

And now— now that he recalls these memories with the filter, the knowledge, of Castiel’s love behind them, everything makes sense.

Of course Castiel was the one to raise him from perdition.

Of course Castiel always came when he called, time after time without fail.

Of course Castiel turned from his kin to protect him and Sam.

Of course he came back each time he left.

And of course, of fucking course, Castiel loved him. 

It wouldn’t make sense any other way.

 

Finally, Dean breathes out.

And he glances up at Castiel, all thoughts of their argument replaced by memories— memories full of love and devotion, something he hadn’t even thought was possible, but here Castiel was, proving to him how unconditional his love was. 

“You love me,” he repeats.

But Castiel just shakes his head.

“Not anymore.”

And Castiel is gone.


	2. Chapter 2

The days pass more slowly after that.

Jobs come and go, taking the boys from Indianapolis to Portland to Denver, but wherever they go, no matter how many days pass, Dean can’t stop thinking about Castiel— about what’s happened between them, and what Castiel said.

_‘I loved you’_

It rings in his head, reminding him over and over again.

_‘I loved you,’ ‘I loved you,’ ‘I loved you,’_

It’s come to the point where he’s begun to whisper the words as much as he thinks them, and analyzes the words until they lose their meaning entirely.

‘I’ is the speaker, Castiel.

‘You,’ is the receiver— Dean, in this case.

And ‘loved’ is the key word. It’s a verb. It’s past tense. It’s over. Not anymore.

Castiel used to love Dean. He used to fight for Dean and come for Dean and love for Dean.

But now, he does not.

He tells as much to Sam one drunken night.

He hadn’t meant to, but after one too many fifths of scotch his jaw loosened and the words poured.

“Cas said he loved me,” he had mumbled, resting the cool glass on his lips.

“He said he loves you?”

And Dean had crumbled, “No. _Loved_. He loved me. Not anymore though.”

He doesn’t remember what Sam said. He can only remember him sighing and watching him with that pitying gaze he does so well.

He remembers closing his eyes, letting the numbing throb of a migraine overtake him.

 

When Dean wakes up, he’s still slouched on one of the library seats in the bunker, and Sam hands him a Tylenol and glass of water. He groans, dry swallowing the pill and rubs his temples. The throbbing is worse now.

He hears Sam pull out the chair across from him, and flinches as the legs screech against the concrete.

“It didn’t surprise me,” Sam says after a moment. “What you said.”

Dean grunts.

“After years of seeing the two of you, it wouldn’t surprise anyone.”

He nods, but otherwise doesn’t respond. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to be talking about this with his brother. 

“I mean, you’ve been to hell and back with him. Literally.”

“So have you,” Dean counters, and Sam sighs.

“Yeah, but that’s not the same. What Cas has for you is unlike anything I’ve seen in a long time. It’s like what Dad had for Mom a long time ago; it’s like what I had for Jessica. Hell, it’s probably even more powerful than that. What Castiel has for you is—”

“Had.”

“What?”

Dean rolls his eyes. He hates correcting Sam time after time. “ _Had_.”

Sam purses his lips, eyeing his brother carefully before speaking. “That’s just my point Dean, what Castiel has— had—for you is unconditional. It won’t just fade simply. Please, listen to me— 

“A couple years ago, Castiel was completely in love for you. Anyone could see it. He would come for you, watch over you, and never asked for anything in return. He just wanted to be near you.

“But at some point, I think your time to reciprocate ran out. I mean, it’s clear to me that you care about him just as much as he does you— you just didn’t realize. Maybe you still don’t, but there’s some part of you that loves him like he loves you—”

“Loved—”

“Otherwise, why would you call on him so much, why would you need him every time he was gone, why would you be so upset now— now that he says he doesn’t love you? Why do you care so much?”

Dean sighs, cradling his head between his hands. The ache still pounds against his skull.

“I dunno,” he says, and Sam groans, running a hand over his face.

“Yeah, you do,” he snaps. “Goddamn it. You’re just too stubborn to say it. It’s okay to love Cas. You don’t have to admit it out loud, or even to me. But Jesus, Dean, just admit it to yourself. You love Castiel.”

“But he doesn’t love me.”

“That’s not the point. The point is that years ago it was obvious to me that you both were in love with each other, even if neither of you said anything. But now, it’s like your time has run out. You never reciprocated, you never took that chance, and when you’ve finally made some progress, Castiel is done waiting. And now, you’re both stuck with this sad ‘could have been’ hanging in the air. You guys aren’t friends. You’ve never been ‘friends.’ But you guys aren’t lovers either because you’re too stubborn to face your feelings. Goddamn it, Dean. Can’t you see? This is fucking painful to watch.

“I just— I guess what I’m saying is— what you and Castiel have— or had, whatever—it was love. And I know because I loved Jess. That feeling you get when Castiel is close, that’s how I felt with Jess. 

“She was my life and I would have given up my existence for her like Castiel would for you. I loved her. And my time with her was cut short.

“So just— understand that you don’t have forever with Castiel. Don’t fuck this up, man,” Sam says, and just by seeing the reddened rings around his eyes, Dean can’t find the words to speak. All he can do, yet again, is to stare, turning over Sam’s words until he finds something to say.

A long moment passes, and even after Sam turns and leaves, Dean still isn’t sure how to react.

His mouth is dry, but his hand won’t move to bring the glass to his mouth. His eyes are itchy, but he’s too shocked to blink away the irritation.

How do you reply to something like that?

What do you do?

And in that moment of utter shock and confusion, Dean does the only thing he can do— pray.

“Cas, you there?”

 


End file.
